Coincidence
by missezlovett
Summary: One-shot, Duncan stumbles across Gwen on his late-night shift at the cemetery.. and she scares him more than he wishes to admit... Can he help her out of her dilemma and her get home without her passing out?


Little one-shot that I just could NOT STOP THINKING ABOUT.

Mainly inspired by **MCR**'s _Cemetery Drive_

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Maybe it was just a coincidence that they'd both ended up in the same place that night…

Or maybe it was fate…

The February breeze wouldn't have differed had either of them decided not to show up… but because they did, the girl's teeth chattered noisily as she hopped the cemetery gates around ten, making her way past the tombs of the dead, not bothering to cross herself like any good Christian would've. As the goth teen made her way past Ingrid Carter's catacomb, the few lights by the almost abandoned church, went out; Just as she'd planned. It didn't take too long to find her father's grave in the dark… she already knew its location by memory.

The lights were out, which meant that it was the official start time of Duncan's night shift. He was working from ten to twelve in the graveyard to keep his ass out of jail. A couple of months keeping watch in this wasteland _had_ to be better than prison. The punk with the mohawk grabbed his flashlight from the maintenance room behind the church, his other hand fingering his pocketknife and the keys to the church, room and the front gates in his pocket.

Because it was his first night there, the kid honestly didn't know what to expect. Sure, he had about three hours all to himself… but what to do with them?

For fifteen minutes, Duncan stood out by the front gates, playing Star Wars with his flashlight, until he got bored and decided to take a stroll. The cemetery stretched on for blocks, the deeper he walked, the darker it became.

While Duncan felt the bottom of his sneakers hitting the pavement as he walked, Gwen had settled in front of the tombstone, after having read the eulogy inscription over and over and over again.

**Here lies Lloyd Harris  
Loving husband and father  
1968 - 2008**

He was forty when it happened. Cancer.

Heart cancer.

The thin girl let her tears fall, the heavy coat of makeup she wore sliding down her face along with her mascara.

Gwen did this every Friday night… She'd sneak out and cry… because if she didn't, she'd break down during school… and also because she didn't want to forget… or have him think they'd forgotten…

Y'know, if he could think at all anymore.

The dark girl glanced around the dark area and checked her phone.

**10:46 PM**

It was about time for her weekly procedure… before the wounds healed up completely.

This'd probably be the last time anyways.

Duncan wound around the sidewalk bends, his flashlight bouncing in his pocket as he eyed the place with his well-adjusted eyes. Was it the hisses or the sniffles that spooked him? He'd never tell, but it was her shadowy silhouette that had caught his attention. He let out a frightened shout as he fumbled with the flashlight, flipping it onto the gloomy girl whose eyes looked like an owl's. Deer caught in headlights was what she was at that very moment, her mascara running down her pale cheeks, her greasy hair sticking out from random places.

Duncan had seen this girl at school, mostly in the library when he made out with his girlfriend.

"What the fuck are you doi-" He stopped short, eyes tuning in to what she was doing. The intake of breath, the look of horror, and last but not least, the blood as it dripped down her wrist, her cuts not yet deep enough to have caused any permanent damage to her porcelain skin.

"Who're you? W-Where's Mr. Hoover?" She barely mumbled, pressing her back to the tombstone.

"What're you doing? …" Duncan asked, stepping closer to her like a scolding mother, still slightly paralyzed at what he was seeing. He leaned into her a bit, his flashlight shining light on her bloody situation.

"Jesus Christ.. Are you alright?" He asked, kneeling down to check the doe-eyed girl's gashes. He would've gagged at the sight of her bloody wrist had it not been for his own record of extremely messy and painful accidents.

The minute his hand reached for her arm she let out a strangled sob and continued her crying.

In his eyes, she looked truly pitiful… and if it was one thing he couldn't stand, it was a crying girl. "Tch, no, don't cry… C'mon, let's get you cleaned up."

"N-No…T-This isn't right. You weren't supposed to be here!" She choked out, trying her best to pull herself together.

"Look babe, do you want to bleed to death, or-?" He shut himself up, catching his slip up.

The guilty look on her face didn't last more than a few seconds, quickly being replaced with an angry glare.

"I don't think that it's any of your business. I'm sorry I scared you, I'll… I'm leaving," Gwen muttered, standing confidently and striding past the boy with at least a one shred of dignity to go on with.

"You're not going home like that. Let me bandage you up."

"Don't bother. Hopefully I'll bleed out by the time I reach my neighborhood." The girl brooded.

Well, if she was going to be all melodramatic, then…

"Whatever… Emo freak." Duncan grumbled to himself, rolling his eyes and sliding his flashlight back into his pocket

Apparently, she'd heard his comment.

And, obviously, it wasn't a good reaction that he received.

Gwen ended up not only pushing him down onto the floor, but kicking him in the shin so that he wouldn't get up again. While the punk withered in pain, she stood above him, a stern grimace plastered on her face as she flaccidly spoke, "I'm not fucking emo."

While the girl walked off into the darkness, blood dripping from her wrist, leaving a nasty trail on the sidewalk, Duncan managed to get himself up, knowing that he deserved that shove.

"Hold up! Goth chick, stop! I'm sorry! Just, let me fix your wrist!" He called, shuffling closely behind her.

"Go away."

"C'mon, Sunshine…I probably won't be able to sleep for the rest of my life if you go home and die tonight. Let me fix it." He muttered, grabbing her shoulder. She shrugged him off quickly,

"WILL YOU BACK OFF! I'm fine, alright! Just leave me alone! I appreciate the concern, but honestly… it doesn't matter, okay?"

"Oh, it doesn't matter? Do you know what could've happened if you'd killed yourself tonight? Huh? Did you even think about what would've gone down?"

"Of course I thought abou-" He interrupted, because she obviously hadn't.

"Did you think about what would've happened afterwards, like, to Hoover, who, bless his soul, can barely walk, and much less handle a teen suicide? He'd have been the only one present, which means that he would've had to go to court with a lawyer that he can barely afford and most likely get charged with HOMICIDE."

Gwen huffed out a frustrated sigh and thought that maybe she could just run off, get rid of this weirdo, but he was speaking to her, and Gwen wasn't going to let this douche bag rag on her for slitting her own wrists.

"I had a note-"

"Ooh, a note! Wanna know a fun fact about notes, Pasty? Anybody can write one! Which means that Hoover, or in this case, ME, could be held responsible for your 'MURDER'."

Ugh, that was it!

"Would you shut the fuck up! I had everything planned out! I don't need to give you a fucking explanation!"

"What?"

She began to walk off, but Duncan was quick, stepping in front of her to block her way.

"So…You were planning on killing yourself? For real?"

Gwen rolled her eyes, as if to day, _'Are you kidding me, you fucking idiot?'_

"…Y'know what? YES! I was going to kill myself tonight! I told my friend, Reaper, I'd be coming here tonight, and I got here at about 10:30. It'd take me about 30 more minutes to completely black out after I'd arrived, and Hoover starts his night shift at exactly 11:00 pm. I've had that note in my bra all day, so by the times Hoover calls the cops and they find it, the paper'll still most likely be warm, therefore indicating that Hoover couldn't have possibly placed it there, and, well, it _is_ in my handwriting... and besides… no one has touched that razorblade but me. No one was going to get framed, or sent to prison, so just back up, okay? Is that enough info, or would you like for me to elaborate some more?"

"N-No, it's just that.. Why?"

"Why?"

"Yeah. Why suicide?"

"…I'd rather not talk about it."

"Okay, fine…Great plan, only, Hoover's on vacation, and _I'm_ here, which sucks for both of us, because you most definitely _cannot_ kill yourself while I'm around, okay?"

"Oh, and why's that?"

"Because if you die in the middle of the street and someone knew you were here, I'll be responsible for it or some bullshit like that and then _I'm_ back in prison, okay? And I'm not going back into that fucking hell-hole just because you fucking feel like bombing life, alright?"

"So it's about _you_ then?" Gwen asked, now piecing everything together. Her good hand rested on her hip as it jutted out, her stance that of a disappointed woman.

"What? Yes! Wait. No! Well… not all of it. I mean, I'm not really going to enjoy seeing some chick bleed out and die… especially when I could've easily fixed up that gash."

Duncan spoke with ease, his words both charming and reassuring. They were enough to convince Gwen to let him bandage her up.

"Ugh..If I let you fix it will you back off?"

"Scout's honor!" He shouted with a grin, saluting her as if it would make things any better.. Gwen didn't find it very amusing.

"Make it quick, I wanna go home."

Duncan was hasty. She'd been bleeding for at least twenty minutes and he couldn't tell whether she was losing color or if she was just naturally that pale.

The punk dug for a cloth of some sort and was glad that he'd picked up the jeans he was wearing. He'd stuffed the bandana he'd used to rob a bank into the back pocket of his pants, which would be good for cutting off the circulation. Thankfully, there was a fridge in the maintenance room that was fully stocked with ice and she wouldn't need a tourniquet… which probably meant that she wouldn't die tonight.

"...Are you woozy, or something?" Duncan asked, wondering if he'd have to carry her all the way back to the church.

"Psh, no."

"Good. Follow me, kay?"

Gwen followed closely, thinking of what she would do when she got home.

She was also stuck on what this boy's name was. She'd seen him at school. He hung out with Reaper after class… God, but what was his name?

Dorian? Dan? Duncan?

That was it! Duncan.

Gwen had him for Algebra in freshman year. He was always getting himself into trouble… and then he got arrested.

The pathway stretched on for what looked like three more blocks, the goth girl was practically nose-to-back with Duncan as he walked, the only thing made visible by the moon being the bright patch of hair on the top of his head.

She appreciated how he didn't ask any more questions. He was silent and it gave her enough time to dwell within the depths of her clouded mind.

By the time the two reached the maintenance room, Gwen had run through everything she knew about this guy and was now left to wonder why he even cared?

If he realty was such a tough guy, then why was he doing what he was doing?

She stood off to the side, flinching at the after-feeling of the self-inflicted wounds as the pain slowly numbed. The green haired teen approached her in the eerie looking dark room, being illuminated only by the open fridge and the moonlight as it swam in through a cracked window by the door.

"Here," He said, handing Gwen a plastic Ziploc bag filled with crushed ice, "Look, Sunshine… Just do me one favor and... I dunno, just please do me a solid?"

She rolled her eyes, foretelling what he would ask for, "I won't tell anyone I was here."

Duncan cocked an eyebrow, shaking his head, "What? No, that's not it, will you let me talk? Just, promise me you'll go to the hospital tomorrow and get some stitches?"

Gwen blushed. Well, that was embarrassing.

So much for Mr. Tough Guy… He was a total cream pie.

"Oh… um…I can't. My mom'll send me to therapy for sure if she finds out…"

"And that's a bad thing? I'm beginning to think you kinda need it, Sunshine… I mean, it won't kill anybody."

"No, but it'll kill my mom's paycheck. I'll just let it heal or something. Anyways, um… thanks. And um… sorry… again." Gwen said, now just dying to get home. The loss of blood had taken quite a toll on her energy.

"It's fine. Lemme walk you out."

Gwen walked out the door, her good hand compressing ice onto the other, glancing around for the gates which seemed close enough.

"So, Pasty… am I allowed to ask?"

"I'd rather you didn't"

"Okay… well… you've certainly made me feel very welcome to the cemetery… Wasn't really expecting this much action on my first night."

"Hah… I'm sorry."

"Nah, it's cool… But y'know… if you're gonna kill yourself, just… do it in a movie theater… while watching a horror flick. When the movie ends, everyone'll freak out."

Gwen chuckled and it caught Duncan's attention, because for the first time that night, she was beautiful.

That laugh… her smile.

She looked wonderful when she did that.

"That's pretty funny, I'll keep that in mind."

"Actually, I'd prefer if you didn't kill yourself at all. I mean… what a waste."

"What waste?"

"A little number like you. You're hot. Why commit suicide when you can be a hooker?"

"Because being a hooker is what I'm trying to avoid."

"Again, what a shame.." He grinned, and she grinned, giving him a rough elbow to the ribs.

"I wouldn't have pictured you as the type of chick to have the co-jones to kill yourself. You got guts.."

"It's not really that big a deal… I mean, once you're dead, that's it… At least you won't have to worry about dying anymore, right?"

That made Duncan consider what she meant… and he silently agreed, giving her a shrug and a nod.

Before they finally reached the gates, they had a small side conversation about the band sweater he was wearing and how that it was her favorite _**Poster Coaster**_ album.

Duncan slid the ancient key into the lock and swung the rickety, rusty gate open, letting Gwen shuffle out onto the side walk, about a foot and a half away from him now.

"Think you can make it home?" He asked, poking his head out through the gate.

Gwen smirked, taking in his whole face for the first time that night,

He was quite handsome, regardless of the fact that his ear piercings were uneven or that his dyed hair was fading into a sickly looking yellow.

"Yeah I'll be fine."

"Alright…" Duncan whispered, lingering by the gate, his body holding on to the railings as she turned, "Wait, I didn't get your name!"

Gwen stopped dead in her tracks and glanced back with an evil smirk that some could call sexy… Although Duncan saw it as deadly.

"…I don't have one."

"Well, do you have a cell phone?" He continued, having her walk back towards her previous spot, a foot and a half away from him.

"I might… But I don't give out my number to strangers…"

She leaned in, disappearing the two feet of space that was keeping them apart, the feel of her icy lips sending an electric shock down the punk's spine. Her mouth was soft, wet, and surprisingly tasted like some sort of artificial fruit.

He liked it.

"Thank you." Gwen whispered, pulling back away and turning around, strutting down the street in her high heeled boots, not even turning her head as Duncan stared after her, completely love struck by a coincidence.

Or fate.

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**REVIEW!**


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